As he sit in the Airlock, facing death, Tom Zarek let his mind wander. "I'm coming for all of you." He could still hear her voice, the resolve, the cold anger, the hatred even. He shivered. He had miscalculated his coup. He wanted Roslin to pull down and had just thrown oil on the fire. He had always seen her as his equal. A fiery and strong personality, but not as someone who marries or even loves.
The moment he met her, he knew the rumors about her affair with Adar were true. She had misled a lot of people, thinking of her as a sweet gentle little woman. But she was not, he had known that the moment she kissed him during Colonial day. He watched Adama walking to him and wondered. When did he make her love him?
The very first time, he had thought it was a fling, an agreement between two consenting adults. He remembered it like it was yesterday. It was founder's day. She was wearing a bright red dress and she was more beautiful than ever. She was speaking quietly with Lee and his wife, sipping on her drink. He could not tear his eyes from her and he had invited her to dance. In his arms, she felt warm and so so very feminine. She had a lazy smile on her lips and was humming to the music, her eyelids partly closed. But her smell.. She smelled of man cologne and something musky. It took him nearly the whole song to put a finger on it. She smelled of sex. When the song finished, he took a good look at her. Her gaze was fixed on something behind him, her hips were swaying in rhythm with the music, her face was deprived of any tension. And she was smiling, a smile he had never seen before: something between carnal and purely satisfied. And he understood.
"Have you been frakking, Laura?" He asked her a bit bemused at his own words and her actions. She had laughed, not denying. "Was it good?" He asked, half joking, wanting to hear her laugh again. He knew she would not hold a grudge for that and he knew for sure she was far from behind shocked. She looked at him, beaming. "Gods, you have no idea." And with that she started to leave the dancefloor. "You have to tell me with who now!" He said in a gossipy tone, making them both laugh. She didn't answer but kept looking behind him. He followed her gaze. "Adama?" Lee was standing near his father, who was intensely looking at them. Wanting to be sure, he added: "The Old Man?" Her eyes lit even more and a big grin appeared at her lips. "Not the Old Man, Zeus!" She said, leaving him and walking towards the small group.
He had seen them several times on New Caprica, always smiling, always walking arm in arm. They seemed happy. But the occupancy happened and after their return to Galactica all traces of their relationship disappeared. He remembered their first reunion post exodus. He had met Laura aboard Colonial One and their ship had docked in Galactica. It was 3 days after the rescue. She had been nervous and had confided it would be her first time seeing the Admiral.
The hatch opened and Adama was at the entrance. No one else was on the deck. So much for a presidential greeting but he knew Adama hated him. If he had had some reserve granting the power to Roslin because of her involvement with the military that moment changed everything for him. She was there, standing in the doorframe looking at her admiral with such intensity. She was waiting for him. To greet her, to hug her, maybe even to kiss her. He had seen her eyes move to his lips and her tongue wetting hers in anticipation. But he had done any of that. He had extended his hand toward her with a simple « Welcome back, Mme President. » Though he had admired his move, he had been shocked to see the woman fragile like that. He had seen a single tear escape from her eye, her hand wiping it as fast as it came. He wondered a second if her heart shattered in a thousand of pieces. But that was not Roslin and he must have misread her.
Half a second later, she was accepting the offered hand and smiling, her face cold and detached. After that, he was sure they had buried their feelings, at least until her cancer returned.
He has seen them, once, in sickbay. Cottled had scolded him about his blood pressure for quite some time. He was sitting on a bed, waiting for the old grump when he heard someone retching, and retching, and retching… His own stomach was unsettling at the awful sound. He was not one to empathize easily but there, he could feel the pain, the physical pain of the person suffering next to him
"It's ok, Laura, I got you, deep breaths." It was her getting sick, the Admiral by her side. Some more vomiting and a faint voice, he would barely recognize it if he didn't know her that well. "Bill, I'm so tired. So tired of it." And she started to sob, hard. He felt his chest twitch. Roslin was a proud woman. He had seen her on Kobol, he had stood with her in front of centurions, never he had heard her that broken. He got up and moved a bit the blinds, unsure of why: give her some comfort, pure curiosity? He was not certain.
She was sitting on the bed, her long stunted legs hanging from the stretchers. She had no hair, no wig, just a pale green scarf. She had discarded her jacquet and he could see the protuberance of her bones beneath her blouse. Adama was holding her against him, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back, his hand resting on her side. He was still holding a kidney bassin in front of her but the nausea seemed better.
The Old Man put down the bowl and turned her face to him, caressing her cheek, kissing her temples, her brows. She calmed down. He kissed her mouth, not bothered by her previous vomiting. "We're going to go home, you're going to lie down and rest. You'll feel better after." She half snorted, half laughed. "I'm not going to get better." her crying resumed. "Look at me, Bill, look at me." Her voice was so vehement. He had never heard her like that, the little teacher, always calm in politics. Not with her man. He moved back to his bed, he had seen enough.
He couldn't believe he had seen her the day before and had not noticed her current state. Sure her wig caught the eyes but with the jacket, while standing straight she didn't look sick, she didn't look that sick. As much as he was pitying Laura, he knew it was information he could use against Mme President. He saw her leave, walking with so much difficulty, leaning heavily against Adama, Zeus, her man. Her man!
At that instant, he had his plan. There was no way in hell that she would let anyone see her cry like that, a bassin full of her own vomit, talk in that tone unless.. Adama had said it, they were going home. She was his wife.
He looked up, they were shooting, finally. He smiled.